ARCADIAN RECKONING [IC]

RAIN.cloud

Never Ending Existential Crisis
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Multiple posts per day
  2. 1-3 posts per day
  3. One post per day
  4. 1-3 posts per week
  5. One post per week
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Transgender
  3. Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
slice of life, supernatural, modern, romance, mxm, fxf
NARRATION





The sun sinks below the horizon, washing the sky in a blend of pink, orange and purple. The light bounces, reflecting off of the pristine glass sides of Caelian's tallest buildings, highlighting the sprawling structure of the city as the last rays of light vanish. The day is coming to an end. There's the soft pitter-patter of feet as they scuttle about the suspended streets, the soft hum of electric as air trams fly this way and that. CEO's and board members alike hurry home, some to relax and others to continue their work. The city is just as alive as it was in the wee hours that very morning. Billboards loom overhead, the picture of the perfect family smiling down upon Arcadia. They are what they search for day in and day out. Marking's etched into their skin at the end of each year -- marked for their 'Perfect Match.' The ad switches, LED's flashing to the sound of electronic music. Graphics pulse to the beat; obnoxiously pink and bright.

The shrill 'ting' of a district pass card reader is quickly followed by the metallic whir of the opening gate. Guards eye the area with keen perception, assuring that everyone that passes in and out are doing so in accordance to the cities law. They spot a jumper, trying to skirt the gates and slip into Caelian unaccounted for. The guards descend upon him in a blur of speed and silent commands. The boy, appearing no more than fifteen, is shoved hard enough into the concrete pavement to crack a human's skull. He is cuffed and dragged away in record time, the few eyes that had stopped to witness now turning away to go about their day. The scene will soon fade from memory in a little under two hours as if it never even happened. The boy now in custody won't be thought of again by anyone other than those that knew him personally. The guards moved back into position and life goes on.

Infra Caelum is a hub of activity. Kids released from school run right into their parents arms, voices carrying as they race each other to the park. Trolley's chime, urging pedestrians out of the way before they slide along electric rails to their destination. Shop signs flicker off, doors locking as business close for the night. Jonah is thankful to finally flip the sign and shut off the cafe lights. He worked a double today and his feet ache more than usual. All that's left to do is mop the floors and take out the trash. He's never been so eager to go home.

Heavy sighs can be heard from those that made it through the district gates, feet sore from a long days work at the top of the city. Accountants, maids, bus boys and the like all shleck their way home. Some are greeted with joy of happy children and loving partners, others are greeted by the serene silence of an empty apartment. Sequestered away from the world around them, all they know is the peace of the day-by-day.

The line is slow to move through the gates, the constant 'ting' of accepted passes filling the air. There's unease in the crowd, eager to exit the lowest district as night begins to fall. This far below the glittering tops of Caelian, it's hard to tell the time of day. Their only guide being large LED clocks plastered on the more stable of buildings. The line to come in is few and far between, mostly those few meager souls lucky enough to snag hold of a job within the middle district. Feet shift and eyes scan. They're in, perhaps, the safest part of Gehenna right now; standing near the guarded gates. It's when the night comes that Gehenna truly comes alive. Those brave enough to venture here after dark aren't to be taken lightly.

There's the ever present hum of electricity rushing through neon poles, the clapping of feet on crooked cement as citizens rush to and fro. There's figures curled up on stoops, flimsy cardboard with scrawled messages in black ink beg for assistance, but their holders seem to go unseen. There's a scuffle deep within an alleyway behind a takeout joint, the dull thuds of fists meeting flesh are drowned by the giggles of children bobbing and weaving through the crowds on their way home. No one looks into the darkness of that back alley, no one flinches at the sharp 'ting' of a switchblade being opened and no one even so much as falters as the scent of iron begins to waft from its dark corners.

The sun has finally set completely, the sky a deep navy blue. The stars are dulled by the endless lights of the city leaving a matte wash of blue above it. Deeper underground there is no sky at all. There's barely even clean air down there. The shop signs provide enough illumination to see down several blocks. Gehenna is busier than ever. Creatures of all shapes and sizes creep out of the crevices. Large black dogs trot between the shadows. Feline's saunter down the sidewalk, fae wings flutter and various types of tails flicker this way and that. The city has finally come alive, the world growing before their very eyes. A place where it's safe to be who you want to be, safe beneath the deep shadows and dark corners.

DAICHI

Location: Infra-Caelum || Interactions: Daiki + Masako + Masayo || Mentions: N/A



A lanky brunette stands over a body, shaggy hair falling into his hazel eyes as he stares apathetically at what remained at his feet. Fingertips are still caked in warm blood, flexing as the liquid begins to congeal against his skin. The red stains full lips, marring pale skin as a hand raises in a vain attempt at clearing it. All he manages is to smear it across his cheek, the angelic laughter of family raising his gaze.

"Nii-chan~. You always make such a mess," twin girls spoke in unison, legs swinging from the metal fire escape they were lounging on. Their fingers, too, were coated in thick red, though their mouths were far cleaner than their siblings. Their giggling is eerily sweet in the empty alley. Daichi doesn't seem to register their words, though there is a subtle shift in his stance. His ears twitch, pressing closer to his head moments before arms slide around his waist. Daich tenses, eyes shifting right. Daiki's smiling up at him. It makes his hackles rise.

"You're always so messy~," the shorter sighs, but there's an amused smile on his lips as he hugs Daichi closer. Daiki savors the taste of blood from Daichi's cheek, ignoring the low growl rising within Daichi's chest. "What?" he pouts, chin resting against his brother's chest.

"You know what, Daiki," finally Daichi speaks, voice a low graveled tone. All Daiki can do in respond with a smirk as his gaze glows with defiance. He's always too close, too affectionate, too attentive. Daichi is the head of the house, their leader. Daiki is his brother, his subordinate...if only he could act like it.

"Take them home, I have to go to work," wet fingers tug at defiant wrists, honey eyes turning a hard amber.

"Why? You still have time! You always rush off to that place!" Daiki's voice pitches to a near painful octave. They've had this conversation countless times. Daichi is getting tired of it.

"You want that tattoo don't you?" There's a silence that stretches between them, each one willing the other to back down. Daiki doesn't like to lose. He refuses-

"I have work," Daichi murmurs, breath like ice against Daiki's flushed skin. The younger goes to pull him back but Daichi is already stepping out of the alley way and into the flood of people on the streets.

"You almost had him Nii-chan," Masako muses. She slips down from the fire escape with a dull tap of shoes on the street.
"Yeah! We really thought he'd stay this time," Masayo trills. Daiki simply scoffs at his sisters, hip jutting to the side as he crosses his arms. "He's so rebellious ever since he got promoted there," Daiki grumbles.



BENJAMIN

Location: Gehenna || Interactions: Kuriko + Kohaku || Mentions: N/A




Tiny white paws scramble across the damp pavement, heart beating rapidly in the chest of a tiny white-blonde creature. It's nails scrape the concrete as the tiny white blur pushes its tiny body as fast as its capable of going. The angry shouts of the shopkeeper captured by his overly large ears. The small animal seems far from worried though, racing a well known path forwards.

The small fox slips easily between the feet of Gehennian's, turning down a back alley few ever venture. It squeezes its frame through the small divet in the side of the questionably built building and trots its way through the large mechanics shop. The shiny metal trapped in its jaws tinkling lightly along the way. The small fox chirps at a brunette, the man nearly jumping out of his skin at the noise. The poor thing almost gets a wrench to the head, but thankfully the human recognizes him before that.

"Jesus Makai!," Benji huffs, headphones slung casually around his neck. "Got a gift again?" Benji's smirk receives a quick nod from the fox. Makai paws at the ground, black eyes shining with the excitement of giving the gift he's....found. "Lemme see," Benji holds his hand out, the sweet fox dropping the jewelry easily. It's tail flashes in a blur of white, large excited black eyes seeking approval.

"Papa!" a small voice calls from the small desk to the mechanics right.

"Yes?" He asks, turning towards his daughter with a raised brow.

"I paint a car!" she squeals, holding up the glittery blue wooden truck she'd been painstakingly working on.

"Kuri....where's your brother?" The young girl blinks as she presses her small lips together, as if that would help keep the secret. "Kohaku, you better not be sneaking cookies again!"

"But daaaad~!" the whine gives away the toddlers position and Benji heaves a sigh.

Makai snickers as he trots along the cold cement and Benji swears the thing isn't simply a fox. Still, Makai is rewarded with tiny cubes of dried meats -- of which he quickly bolted off with. Benji chuckles before turning towards the kitchen. "Kohaku! You better not still be getting cookies!"


REMINGTON

Location: Gehenna || Interactions: Gerron (NPC) || Mentions: N/A





Hearts beat hard and heavy, breath echoing quietly within hollow masks. Ears strained for the faintest of sounds, muscles tense as the small group lays in wait. Remington eases towards the edge of the building, peering around the corner. The truck is late and he's beginning to lose his patience. Either the word they gotten was a lie and they were all about to be in deep shit, or, these Caelian fucks were catching on and changing their route detail. Either way it was a major pain in the ass!

He grunts as he falls back against the brick wall his group is currently sequestered behind. His head turns the opposite way, elbow nudging the human at his side. "Gee, I thought you said they were coming down this street?" Remy hisses quietly at his friend. Technically co-captain, but Remington just won't let those words come out of his mouth. Call it a pride thing if you will, but Gerron's reaction each time Remy refuses his proper title is just.....its fucking hilarious okay. It's a petty little thing but that's what happens when two people have known each other for as long as these two have.

"See that's why we don't leave the humans to do the important stuff," Remington taunts. Its not something that he truly believes, not by a long shot. Gee has, time again and again, proven that despite his general weak and squishy nature, he's an asset. The low growl of a truck steals Remy's attention. His hand is clasping over Gerron's boisterous mouth -- even when that boy whispers its like a damn shout -- keeping him held out of sight as he glances out again. It takes several long moments for the truck to appear. No more words are spoken, hand lifting from Gee's mask to wave on the group. Remy turns, tugging at the fire escape ladder. He scales it first, reaching back to grab Gee's forearm, dragging him up the last several pegs. Rem completely ignores his protests, all but dragging the human to the edge of the building.

The truck is nearly beneath them, Remington takes a deep breath as he eyes the drop from the top of the building. This will either go perfectly.....or horrendously. "I swear to the goddess if you fuck this up I will leave your ass to die this time," Remy grumbles, stomach twisting with the usual pre-mission anxiety. Stepping onto the edge of the roof, Rem waits for the opportune moment. He hates this shit, despite his abilities. The freefall is always awful, tucking and rolling once he hits the surface of the top of the truck with a quiet thud. He can hear Gerron make contact only a moment after, instinctively reaching out to catch Gee to assure he was staying on the roof of the truck with him. It wasn't visible behind the oni mask obscuring his face, but Remy's eyes flashed towards his companion for a moment before allowing his arm to fall.

They would lay low for now. Allowing the truck to take them to the warehouse.

"Dude...close much?" Remy mutters but despite his apparent complaints, he doesn't move. In fact he inches closer, eyes shifting this way and that to keep alert for guards.
 
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LEE JUNGHAE

"Fuck this shit, Let's start a Riot"

The night was peaceful, from high up he went unseen as the clouds rolling by, both there and not. The air was fresher here, little distractions to the nose but the small tinge of electronic fray. His body swayed against his harness, both by his own doing and the wisps of the wind as it hit the glass and found him instead. Suspended about 20 stories up, just a man with his legs crossed messing around on his laptop.

A strange sight if one were to see him from that high up, you'd think he had a death wish. It wasn't far off from how the male felt about the world in general, in it's broken state it wasn't hard to be pessimistic. Poverty, illness, and the cute fact that he too, like his parents would have his life be ended by the barrel of a handgun. Frankly, he waited for the day, with the gun pressed against his temple and his middle finger up at the one holding it. Having spent half his adult life hiding, he had almost forgotten how beautiful the sky was, the stars scattered about like glitter and the moon as bright as he remembered. The view was not why he was here.

This building was owned by a rich family who sold insurance bonds with a side business of illegal bribery and blackmail. This same family also hired Auto to fix their robots on the side, as he'd do it without a license or permit and they could avoid putting him officially on the payroll. At the time it seemed like a great idea, coming from nothing the figures they were willing to pay him in cash was too good to be true. Like all good things, they ended and the hacker became one of the most wanted criminals in Zip City, and for that he couldn't forgive. It seemed all this ill- will made someone very happy, as happy as one could be as his mask made a small little Ding. Guess who found his way into the security system again. Auto shook his head, they never learned did they? You can't keep out the same one who worked on your security and made it better. Where would the monster be without Frankenstein?

The security camera's showed nothing out of the ordinary as expected, Auto didn't expect to find anything to strange as he flipped through the feeds. Finding nothing of interest, he was half intended to stop looking, but that was no fun. fingers clicked against the keyboard to find one room in particular, the CEO's office. The office was just as empty as remembered it, a couple chairs and the glass desk over looking the entirety of Zip city. The highest floor the building had, floor 23. It was a question as to why Auto wasn't on the top floor where the office was, since he had repelled himself down to the 20th floor, and the answer which didn't make sense but was true.. Auto was scared of heights.

Within a few seconds Auto was in, scrolling through emails and the like, having wired himself a bit of the stocks to a remote location. The cat eared headphones he had 'borrowed' from a Brookstone, flashing various colors along with the beat of the music. He was far too old for these headphones, no adult man would want cat ears for headphones, but there was something about them, they were hot. Sure he could be quiet, but he was too high up for anyone to hear, even if someone could, at least they'd know he was going hard. The LED on his mask fluctuating with the bass of the song as yet another 5 grand was deposited into a foreign bank account.

The hacker clicked through and read the file of pictures and a request which requested money in order to keep pictures of Anthony's dear father surrounded by prostitutes. A decent Friday night. Very depressing for blackmail. "Dear Mr. Archer.. Good luck trying to get money with all that porn you just downloaded onto your company's computer. Hope the police like hot teens"

The email was stricken from record but saved for later, surely Anthony would like to know of his fathers adventures. He'd track whoever found those pictures later, if the boy wanted, if not Auto could care less. It was not his job to determine right from wrong, he was a hacker not a judge.

Once his business was done, and a mere 10 grand was deposited into his own account and the account of a dear friends, and the thrill of the porn virus installed into the boss's cpu, he was about done with his little snooping.

The hacker looked up and met eyes to LED mask of a janitor, holding his mop in utter confusion at what he was seeing. Closing his laptop slowly the male put his index finger up to his mask, if the janitor said a word, he'd have this man on a hit list so fast he'd never be able to dial 911. Only intending to lower himself just enough to jump to another roof, the straps which held him buckled as he tried to get them to lower. Quickly snapping as gravity pushed Auto towards the ground, one hand holding dearly onto his laptop while the other tried to reach onto whatever window ledge he could. For being scared of heights, he was surprisingly calm. If his body were to splat onto the ground, it'd sure save the police some trouble. Peeling his skin from the concrete might be a task.

Auto was able to grab onto one ledge, a short alcove from the glass windows. Unable to let out a single breath before his fingers couldn't hold on much longer and they too, slipped once again. This fall wasn't serious but wasn't pleasant either. His body curled instinctively, cradling his laptop as he twisted his way down, hitting what felt like hardened cloth, his body was jolted up right. Forcing him to finally hit the hard concrete of the ground, all he could muster was a "FuCk." As the air was knocked from his body.

There he lay for a few moments, feeling as if he had broken a rib or two. His headphones busted and a deep chip in his LED eyes. He could see his vision was blurred, indicating that his camera had also been busted. It would take him at least a whole day to fix his mask. Sure his laptop was okay but his phone wasn't, destroyed beyond his repair, glass had gone through the aluminum and severed the motherboard. The whole situation was fucked, but he'd done it himself.

With enough strength to lift himself off the ground, the hacker made his way home, the pace of a turtle and leaning against the walls to keep him upright. He'd have to get a hold of Eilon and let him know the job was completed.

~~~~

He had made it, the apartment feeling rather empty, or maybe it was to him because he couldn't see out of one side of his mask and he was seeing triples of everything through his camera behind the LED. Feeling the walls with one hand, he found his room. Quickly slamming the door with his body weight, hand reaching for the set of locks but deciding on only doing one.

He felt the blood now, soaking into his back, who knows what else he had hit before he finally hit the ground. He felt the pain, all of it as it tore through his system in waves. Reaching the phone from his hoodie to text Eilon before he noticed, yet again it was broken and he felt the rage. Now he'd have to show up in person, it was what it was.

Hurling the broken device against the wall to watch it shatter again, next was the mask, it too was tossed against the wall, not shattering again but making a loud bang. "Mother fucker! Fucking garbage bullshit!" Sometimes he just needed to yell, which was better than breaking more of his belongings. The laptop however, was tossed, not gently but with far less force than the other two.

With free hands Auto, stripped himself of his hoodie, wincing but trying his best to keep it down. Like everything else the hoodie was tossed to the ground, followed by the shaking of his hair. He just needed to sleep now that he could breathe properly, the hacker made his way to his bed, feeling ultimately naked without his mask despite having shoes and his navy skinny jeans still on. Once his body settled as sprawled out as was comfortable, Auto felt his eyes close, suddenly feeling tired beyond belief.






Created by Leucothea
 

JI AH

"If I look like I'm violent, then baby why don't you shoot me?"

The air vibrated with the low buzzing of fading fluorescent lighting. Changing in frequency as the long tubes dulled, slowly draining themselves of all energy. It's fading affect and eerie green glow reflected against the chipped paint of lockers and glossy surface of the old linoleum flooring. Usually, the locker room was more upbeat, as the voices of patrons to the boxing gym ebbed in and out; and fast paced music played from the overhead speakers. The ancient analog clock was the only source of information to tell the time, and it was rather late.

But just early enough for the Caelian's to come down for the show. Common knowledge that Gehenna was the place to go for any and all illegal activities. Street boxing was one of the calmer options to indulge in. The bets were anonymous, the lighting dim. The crowds could see the fighters, yet those in the ring were never able to make out the faces within the crowd. Perfect for big wigs who wanted to keep their identity hidden.

Not that Jiah cared, she was only in it for the money. But it was still important for her to keep a low profile. Despite the many years that had passed after her disappearance from Infracae, the giantess kept her identity hidden. Masks and bandaging of the face were her go-to options. The tattoos were all accumulated after she disappeared. If there was a small chance her identity could be revealed she'd rather not go through the hassle of that information getting back to her mother.

Echoing of heavy shoes bounced from the greenish walls. The figure visible from the crack mirror above the sink, Jiah didn't have to turn around to look. Her coach, gaudily dressed in a leopard print track suit, was just behind her. Their face a twisted in an impatient glare. As heavy sneakers tapped against the old linoleum tile.

"You ready mamas? Big fight tonight." The smell of cigarettes wafted from their breath and their clothes. Not the bothered Jiah who was also a smoker herself. In fact, it made her crave one at the moment. As long she won the upcoming fight her coach wouldn't mind sharing their stash.

Jiah released her grip from the sink, hovering over her coach. Her tall stature was usually enough to startle and intimidate most of her opponents, allowing for hesitant shots and wide-open opportunities for Jiah to knock them clear into the floor. It didn't work for every opponent, but for the easier wins it always came in handy. "Not big enough." She started, a twinge of annoyance to her voice. "Oleate is a heavy hitter, he has the number of wins under his belt as me. They could has raised the winning wages a little higher don't you think?"

Jiah's coach only shrugged. They didn't have to say it, the large female already knew. Even if her fights were bringing in more and more crowds, she and the other fighters would continue getting the short end of deals. With an out stretched hand her coach gave Jiah a light tap on the shoulder, jerking her head towards the exit.

It was loud as usual. Bright lights from the ring washed out the faces of screaming persons. Excited for the match to start and eager to see where their bets had placed them by the end of it. As she listened to the voices, one's from the seat and that of the announcer overhead, she couldn't help but think of what Remi was doing. It was dangerous the plan he was carrying out but she wasn't the one to stop him. Nor did he want to be stopped, all Jiah could do was hope he'd make it out alive and safe as he did the other times. Even if he came up empty handed, the money she would win from the fight would provide something at least to Bayt.






Created by Leucothea
 
Levon Mavros
location: Gehenna|n/a interactions


A tall, masked figure strolls through the alleyways of Gehenna, a silhouette in one of the quieter areas of Arcadia—the warehouse district. There's solace in leaving the bright lights behind, and these streets are much more familiar to Levon than most places, given that many of his dealings have to do with information stolen from this area.

He thinks back—hot red and magenta lights, illuminating the files, photos, blueprints, and contracts surrounding him. The sounds from the street outside, a documentary on an Arcadian civil war conspiracy, and dread settled deep in his chest as he sat on the floor of his apartment. Then Levon was looking out at the room and down at his hands. Tea canisters, the lights of Gehenna, dried lavender sprigs, and bronze nails stained red. Even feeling safe and at home in the dark, now, Levon winces and shakes his head hard, as if to shake himself free of that familiar sentiment. That place was never meant to see things like that. And then, his eyes had lifted to the front door, and in that manner the issue was decided.

He falls into a comfortable pace, maneuvering these pitch-dark alleys with silent, rhythmic footfalls. Levon's mind is quiet as he adjusts his mask, before sorting through the sheathed throwing-knives at his waist, hidden beneath his tech jacket. Their handles are custom-labeled in braille, and he runs his fingers over them—silver, iron, bronze—mindlessly reciting species wards and poison thresholds as he does. Next he fixes the metal chains around his wrists and neck and smooths out his compression sleeves, then checks the pockets of his cargo pants and compartments in his jacket, containing vials of poisons, deterring herbs, and salt—among other things—also labeled in braille.

Levon anxiously pulls on his fingers, head up and ears strained for the sounds of guards from passing warehouses. His mind drifts off. Mithridates VI of Pontus feared death via poison so intensely that at a young age—winding down now, Levon tucks his hands into his pockets and turns a corner—
he began consuming small non-lethal doses of poison, this practice is now called…

Finally Levon reaches the base of the fire escape and slides his gloved hands out of his pockets. Though his playlist isn't on yet, he swears he hears a beat reverberating through the floor when he stops, its pace keeping time for him. Levon exhales slowly and mentally rehearses the next thirty minutes, vis-á-vis a documentary he watched years ago about the amygdala. Shaking out his hands, then double-checking his mask and hat, a smile creeps onto his face as he looks up at the fire escape. "Gotcha," he breathes.

A few seconds later, blood rushing to his head, Levon reaches the rooftop. Here he can feel the wind cutting through his layers, and as he peers down at the alleyway he was just in, Levon's heart picks up. God, he loves heights like these. Maybe it comes with being half Stymphalian bird: creature enough to be accustomed to freefall and the empty sky but also human enough to fear it; looking down, knowing that one step could lead him to his doom, but also feeling perfectly at home up here, knowing he won't make that mistake.

He raises his eyes to the horizon and finds, nearly a hundred meters away, his target for that night. Though he could technically get started right away, Levon is ahead of schedule, and knows better than to rush these things. For now he steps closer to the edge, eyes fixed on the warehouse in the distance and content with the whistling of the wind in his ears.
 
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